


Advent calendar drabble #19

by begformercytwice



Series: Advent Calendar 2012 [19]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-19
Updated: 2012-12-19
Packaged: 2017-11-21 14:35:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/598861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/begformercytwice/pseuds/begformercytwice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim and Seb torment an informant.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Advent calendar drabble #19

In the course of his brief but stellar career as Jim Moriarty's head of security, Sebastian had killed, maimed, and tortured their enemies in more ways than he cared to recall. He'd shot, stabbed, beaten, sliced, diced, poisoned, burned, frozen, choked, drowned, and, on one memorable occasion, pushed from a helicopter his way through the criminal underworld, without once batting an eyelid. But, of all the things Jim could have chosen to torment this informer, he had to pick the one thing Seb hated. Dogs.

The pair of half-starved Rottweilers strained at their leashes, snapping at the hapless victim as he lay bleeding and sobbing on the cold concrete floor. It took all of Seb's considerable strength to restrain them, but if they decided to make a break for it, he knew he couldn't stop them. He just prayed they wouldn't turn on him. Vicious little bastards they were, and unreliable as an interrogation method, but for some reason Jim loved the way people pissed themselves at the sight of them, literally and figuratively.

"We know you've been telling your little tales about us," Jim said, gesturing for Seb to bring the dogs closer. They snarled like creatures possessed, leaving spit trails along the floor. "Whatever's left of you after Hansel and Gretel here have had their fill, I'll be posting piecemeal to the police, the press, and your family."

"God, please, I swear I didn't do anything!" He'd crawled into the corner of the room, but it wasn't nearly far enough. "I swear to fucking Christ, I'd never say a word to anyone! Why won't you believe me!?"

"You think I'd be here if I didn't already know what a filthy traitor you are?" Jim spat, his expression frighteningly similar to the dogs'. Their barks echoed off the walls as he pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head mockingly. "Your only use to me now is as an example. Everybody on my payroll wants a piece of me; well, they'll just have to settle for a piece of you." He nodded once to Seb, who let go of the leashes.

Seb averted his eyes as they tore into him, but he couldn't block out the screams, or the sight of Jim lighting a cigarette and wearing a satisfied smile as he watched the carnage. "Why the fuckin' dogs?" he hissed in Jim's ear. "You know I hate it. I'd've carved him up for ya, no bother, but the dogs, that's just sick."

"You'll hold your tongue if you value it," Jim murmured, still lost in the sight in front of him. "It has a kind of primal artistry to it, I think. Almost the circle of life. When one is no longer useful alive, one must be useful in death." He turned, and exhaled smoke in Seb's face. "You might like to remember that."


End file.
